


A Kindness

by cjmarlowe



Category: Ripper Street
Genre: M/M, Porn Battle, different battlegrounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:57:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmarlowe/pseuds/cjmarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drake gets bloody when he fights, that's the only way to do it. He gets bloody and Jackson knows all too well how good that feels sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kindness

Drake gets bloody when he fights, that's the only way to do it. Whether he's fighting for Reid (in a professional or a personal capacity; Jackson doesn't judge and everyone knows how much Reid likes to _watch_ every damn thing) or whether he's found a back alley ring that'll stand him up with some meaty bloke just arrived in London to entertain the bloodthirsty crowds. He gets bloody and Jackson knows all too well how good that feels sometimes.

Drake's fighting today because he doesn't know what else to do with his body right now, and Jackson gets that. He gets it. That's why he follows him. That's why he's there.

Harrow's the man who runs this particularly place. Jackson knows he likes Janie best, and comes for her at Susan's after every Thursday's take. He doesn't generally respect a man with such predictable habits, but he likes the leverage.

"I need a room to clean him up," says Jackson, grabbing Drake by the remains of his collar. 

"Piss off," says Harrow. "He's done. Get him out of here."

"He's just made you a mint," says Jackson, ands stands there with all the entitlement in the world, and Harrow finally grunts and angles his head towards his office in the back, a dank and narrow and empty room that'll be fine. It'll do. It has a door.

"I don't need you to," says Drake, and the only reason Jackson's able to yank him away at all is that his adrenaline is starting to fade and he's feeling the heaviness in his own hard-beaten limbs. He won the fight, and decisively, but at a cost.

"Shut up," says Jackson, pushing him into the rickety chair and pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to get up the worst of the blood streaming from his hairline. There are traces of scars from a lifetime of battles on his face. Probably on the rest of him, too. "If you're very lucky I won't have to pull out my needle and thread this time."

"I'm fine," says Drake, shoving at him without much conviction. Jackson presses his advantage, swabs a cut on his collarbone. There'll be bruises on his ribs, too, but Drake's showing no real complaint so he makes only a cursory examination.

"Save your lies for Reid," says Jackson. "I don't care."

It's a testament to his very real injuries that Drake even lets him tend to him so thoroughly, and to his weariness (in both body and spirit) that he says no more about it. They neither of them mention Rose. 

"Something tells me that's not the kind of relief you were looking for," said Jackson after, just daubing at his eye. It's going to be a real shiner before long. Drake looks rough now, but no rougher than anyone.

"Keep your filthy mouth to your—"

"Aw, come on, it doesn't need to be that way," says Jackson, and doesn't give Drake a chance to insult him again before he sticks a hand in his trousers, just the way he's been intending to since he got him in here. There's a momentary buck of Drake's body, an instinctive shove at Jackson's arm, and Jackson waits it out, does nothing untoward until Drake relaxes back again. Until Drake lets him.

"Just doing a friend a favour," he says.

"We're not friends," says Drake.

"Even better," says Jackson. "Then you'll never feel like we need to talk about it."

Jackson's never been a man who treads cautiously, even when he should. Not in this. And despite his tender heart, Drake's never been the sort of man who needs caution.

He wraps his hand around Drake's stiff cock and it's like it's been only days since he last did this, not years and ocean and a whole different battleground. He does this because he can, and because Drake _is_ a friend, sort of, and because he gets it. He's been here. He knows.

"Holy sweet Mary," Drake blasphemes as Jackson strokes him off, hard and efficient. It's easy enough, and Drake had been stiffening even before the fight was over. Jackson doesn't judge that, either. And if Drake is closing his eyes and thinking of Rose, it's not like Jackson gives a toss. This isn't like that.

Though Jackson has a soldier's and a surgeon's hands, and they're hard to mistake for anything other than that.

Drake comes in a swell, with a grunt and an unsteady clench at Jackson's arm. Jackson pulls his hand out swiftly and shakes it off on the floor, wipes it on Drake's sweaty shirt and grimaces at the sticky residue still left behind. He steps back before Drake can start to wonder if he should reciprocate, can start to really think about this at all. Not here, not now.

Jackson doesn't expect any kind of awkwardness, when all is said and done, but this is a place and time where he doesn't want to tempt fate. He knows all too well how good he is at that. When he straightens his own clothing and dusts off his trousers, he looks as presentable as ever, which isn't very and yet more than enough.

"You'll live," he says.

They both know he's not just talking about the fight.

"I always do," says Drake, grimacing himself as he fixes his fluid-soaked clothing. A man on the street couldn't tell one stain from another, sweat and blood and come. Jackson feels all right now that he doesn't have to see him home to make sure he changes into something appropriate before going back to the station. To make sure he's okay.

"Well, places to be," he says, looking Drake up and down before opening the office door again. Harrow doesn't even look over at them. He puts his hat on and gives Drake a nod. Drake hesitates, stands up and stretches his sore muscles, and finally nods back.

Maybe Jackson can go get some time in with Janie now before Harrow blunders in and ruins her for the night. It's worth a shot.


End file.
